


What We Do In Wrong Situations

by CelticGHardy



Category: The Following, Warehouse 13
Genre: Gen, others have small parts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-30
Updated: 2015-04-30
Packaged: 2018-03-26 13:06:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3852058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelticGHardy/pseuds/CelticGHardy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mike goes missing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What We Do In Wrong Situations

**Author's Note:**

> Things mentioned here came up in [this fic.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3462356) You don't have to read that one to understand.
> 
> This was done for HC bingo amnesty challenge. I'm hoping I can claim that I hit all of them. [My board.](http://cghardy.livejournal.com/82185.html)

Mike Weston wasn't paying attention. Insomnia and hate filled nights left him walking around with barely any notice into his surroundings unless something directly effected him. There should have been a part of him that alerted him to this fact, reminding him of previous events that led to his abduction, but it wasn't as loud as it should have been. A coffee in hand, going through his emails on his phone, the crowded street was supposedly safe at the moment.

Stopping with the rest, he had about a split second notice of something wrong. Someone jammed a device in his neck, which turned out to be a Taser, shocking him and making him scream out. He dropped both of his things, coffee splashing on an angry waitress and his phone cracking. The attacker then helpfully let him fall into a van that quickly pulled up. He was rolled inside and the person jumped in after, with no one helping and even a few taking pictures and video of the act.

Mark Gray, as much as he called himself Luke, quickly bound his quarry while Daisy drove as fast as possible without getting attention. It took many more minutes to get back to their safe location, dodging cop cars and old drivers before getting in front of a garage door. She quickly opened it, keeping an eye out for flashing lights before moving inside and closing the door. Then, the car was turned off. She got out and walked over to the sliding door, grabbing the legs while he managed the upper body. The two had to slowly go to the door that led to the kitchen, then kept moving to a back bedroom. There, they already had a person, bound to a straight back chair with a gag to make sure they couldn't shout for help.

-

Max and Ryan walked in to the command center to see multiple videos showing the same event from sightly different angles. “Hey, what's going on?” he asked Hopkins, moving down to the two techs going through footage.

“Roughly about eighty minutes ago, several people witnessed Mark Gray walk up behind someone and subdue them before shoving them into the back of a van,” he reported, trying to get better pictures.

“Who's the victim?” Max asked, analyzing along side them.

“We've been trying to get a clearer picture,” another person responded. Finally, mining through status updates managed to get a woman that was pissed over the fact her stuff was ruined, managing to get the side view of the guy that did it.

“Oh, no,” Max whispered.

“Mike,” Ryan echoed.

“What's going on?” Donovan demanded, coming into the room.

“Gray kidnapped Mike,” Ryan said, anger coursing through his body. This was a repeat of what happened the last time Donovan was over them. Damn it, if it had to do with Lily's death, he will do everything to him before allowing him to die, and Ryan didn't want to know what would happen if they found him after what he would go through. Again.

“Do you think this is still about the death of his mother?”

“Yes,” Max answered, cutting off Ryan from sharp remarks. “He may not be happy about Clarke absorbing the full blame.”

“That and,” Ryan pointed out, getting a bigger picture on the driver, “Daisy's got a grudge against me for killing Kyle. She will take it out on Mike.”

“What do you think the plan is at the current moment?” Donovan questioned, already knowing it but wanting confirmation.

“Mainly to injure and torture,” Ryan said, “Anything beyond that will have to be shown.”

-

Mike was woken when Daisy poured ice cold water on his head. He gasped, the shock not ending as the water went down his back and chest. Mark, who was on the other side of the room, watched in glee. Once he caught a glance at who was watching him, he started fighting against the handcuffs that kept him down. There was also ties on his ankles to keep him from kicking out. Realizing he was stuck, Mike turned to taunting the two, hoping for a shot to break loose. “Gee, did someone learn their mistake?” he inquired, looking at Daisy. She smashed her fist into the side of his head and then held her hand as it hurt.

“Daisy,” Mark said. She glared at him before walking over. Then, he took over. “How did you feel about Agent Clarke's death?” he asked, “Knowing that your actions were responsible for his death.”

“Your mother wouldn't have died if you hadn't killed my father,” he reminded.

“Your father wouldn't have died if you hadn't beat up Luke.”

“I only beat him up. I didn't kill him outright. I also didn't kidnap a civilian to get Joe back, your brother came to attack Ryan and Max. None of this would have happen if you had just given us Carroll.”

His words rang an unfortunate truth. Mark wasn't willing to give up his plan. “You're going to tell the world what you did to my Mother,” he stated.

“No, I'm not. I will die before that gets out,” he refuted, “You can do whatever the fuck you want to me. I'm not telling the truth about it.”

Mark went to another room and wheeled in something. Mike wasn't sure if what was going on. _What the hell is he planning? Whatever fancy thing he was going try isn't going to work. What I did was necessary._ It took him a few seconds to realize that Mark had another person in a wheelchair, stripped down to an undershirt and boxers. There were two wounds of notice, as they were both red, swollen and leaking fluids that Mike didn't want to think about. _Infection. A bad one. Person needs help soon._ “I'm sure you're analyzing the situation fairly well,” he said, “This person has an infection. It's dangerously along in its path. I can save them from it, but you need to tell the world what you did to my mother.”

Mike was worried. He didn't know who the other person was. _Do I give him what he wants, or do I try to wait for Ryan and Max to realize that something's wrong? Is it possible for them to get here in time?_ He didn't know anything on infections, other than they're getting worse thanks to antibiotic over-usage. “Oh, you know, I haven't told you everything yet,” he apologized, pulling off the hood of their victim.

He was in shock for a couple of seconds before yelling out, “Steve!” The other man raised his head in annoyance before seeing his brother cuffed in front of him.

“Luke and I knew you had three brothers, but we didn't know that your last brother was a twin,” Mark grinned, “I mean, it's quite an interesting fact. Both of you went into law enforcement, and then, my brother and I are on the other side. Mirrors of the case, almost.” He picked up a knife, previously used and barely clean, as there was still blood near the hilt. “Sadly, the mirror is partially gone now.” Fixated on a clean area of skin, he pushed the blade into a pectoral, gaining nothing more than a moan out of it. Mike wanted him to stop, but he wouldn't unless he agreed to tell the truth. _I need to hold out for Ryan and Max. I need to hold out for Ryan and Max._

“Really?” Mark inquired, “Just that isn't going to set you off?”

“Fuck off,” Steve whispered, managing to get that out with immense pain. “Whatever they want, don't give it to them.”

“Like father, like son,” Mark said.

At that, Steve laughed. That made Mike smile a bit. “That asshole served during Don't Ask, Don't Tell. What the hell do you think he thought about a gay son?” he questioned. “I am nothing like that man.” The smile fell off Mike's face and Mark was interested.

“Your father was homophobic?”

“Homophobic means a fear of homosexuals. Our father was a child abuser that hated the fact we liked boys.”

Mike groaned, “Really, you had to say that?”

“What?”

“Yes, Michael, what?” Mark said, “I thought you and Max Hardy had something.”

Steve grinned, “Max Hardy.”

He frowned, “Shut up.”

“First Ryan, then Max.”

“I said, shut up.”

“Oh no, I am not letting this go.”

Daisy had been watching with little interest. Thanks to Strauss and the FBI, her husband was dead and she was on the run. Whatever Mark wanted out of Mike, she just wanted him to get this over with so she could get to a place where she might be safe. “Could we get back on track?” she demanded, getting the boys attention.

Mark frowned, as he had been enjoying the show a bit while missing his own brother, but did as she wanted. He pulled out the knife, which had been left in Steve. The newest wound started getting just as infected as the other ones already was. _Nothing would develop an infection that fast. Unless..._ His mind turned from tales told from his mother, a metronome connecting him and the woman he was working with, almost killing the three of them. Mark saw it, smiled, “You see it. I can keep doing this. I can make it go everywhere. Infection's terrible. Fever, nausea, hallucinations. Then, the organs get hit with the bacteria.” He slid the knife along an arm, the slight cut also developing. “You're waiting for Ryan and Max. Problem is, he may not make it that long.”

 _Damn it._ The accelerated effects were already happening to Steve. “Don't,” he panted, the fever working its charm.

“I'd give him fifteen minutes,” Daisy said, “Before things are so bad, he slips into unconsciousness and you may not get him back.”

That worried him. That scared him. Mark kept adding to the infection, and Steve was getting worse. It wasn't going to be fifteen minutes. It was going to be five, then it would be too late. Mike couldn't lose another family member that he cared about.

-

Pete and Myka were in New York. Nothing was ever a pleasure trip for them and it became even worse than the normal business ones. It had started out as a normal artifact hunt, then Claudia and Artie called them about Steve going missing. Thirty odd hours before, he had gone to see Liam, who went to a cafe with him, but saw him get in his car and drive away. Nothing after that, and it was worrying them. Pete and Myka needed to find the artifact, but they were the main field agents. Claudia and Artie could come out, but both were better suited behind the desk. Or, in front of the enhanced computers.

The two were heading back to their last lead, a pawn shop that had last had the knife. Passing by a cafe with a live news feed going on, Myka pulled Pete back before he could go on further. “What, Mykes? Are there cookies?” he asked, peering inside.

“Come on,” she muttered, pulling out the Farnsworth and turning it on. He kinda got what was going on after seeing what had her attention.

“Whoa,” he said.

 _“Did you find him?”_ Claudia demanded.

“No,” she said, “But the news is right now reporting a feed for Mike Weston.”

That surprised her. _“Mike?”_ She switched a monitor to a livestream where HBN was explaining that Mark Gray had announced he was going to share information to the world about his mother's death.

“Claude, I think you should track that feed and tell us where it's filming,” Pete suggested. Myka looked at him. “Major vibeage. Whatever happened to Steve is related to this.”

_“On it.”_

Mike glared at the person holding the camera before staring straight at it. _“My name's Agent Michael Weston,”_ he introduced, _“During the Korban compound raid last year to apprehend Joe Carroll, I broke off the main group to find Lily Gray, who was conducting her own raid to get Carroll herself. I figured out where she and her sons would be waiting and went to confront her. Lily was by herself, and surrendered herself when I announced. I wanted her dead, so I told her to kneel on the ground. Ryan and Max Hardy came up and tried to talk me out of it. It failed. I shot Lily Gray multiple times, killing her.”_ Someone talked off camera, demanding a change to the previous statement. _“I admitted it, why are you worried about a word?”_

The camera shut off, leaving the feed dark and the anchors scrambling to pick up. Myka checked the Farnsworth. _“I got an address,”_ she stated.

-

Once Mike was done, Daisy cut the feed, leaving them as the only ones again. He had been dragged to a different room, his hands had been rearranged to be hidden by the camera while he went through with his confession. He had no idea what was going on with Steve, but was worried when Mark came back in. He was holding something that was glowing, and the knife was still in his hand. “Where's Steve?” he demanded.

“He's fine,” Mark said, “The infection's taken care of from him. I had to gag him to keep him from calling out after it was done.” That confused Mike. It made no sense to him. “You see, I took the infection from him, using this.” He held up a large medal. “But, now, I need to do something with it.” He held Mike's head to keep him from struggling, and slipped it on.

Mike started burning up, his chest hurt. The places that Mark had cut on Steve started opening up on his skin, oozing pus and other items down his skin as the wounds went through several levels of infection and pain. He gasped out in pain as it finally finished. His vision became slightly blurry as tears filled his eyes and his head was cloudy. _I want to go asleep._ “I said I would take care of your brother, I didn't say anything about you,” he hissed, using the knife as a final hit as he slammed it into a thigh. The two packed up around them and left. Mike not long after that did as well.

Steve sighed in relief as Pete and Myka next came through the door. “Geez, Steve,” Pete tried quipping, taking out the gag and untying him.

“Gray had an artifact. A knife,” he said, getting up after Pete was done.

“Was it brass and steel?” Pete asked.

He was searching for Mike, trying to find the other room they dragged him in. “Yeah, he used it on me to cause rapid infection. Then he used something else to take it away, a medal of some sort.”

Myka was concerned. “Two artifacts working on the same person. I'm calling Artie to see if we can't get Doctor Calder,” she said, getting her phone out and handing him the Farnsworth.

Pete went with Steve, pulling out gloves and a bag. They finally got to a room where Mike was unconscious in the chair they had bound him. “Mike!” he shouted, running over and carefully not trying to hit either of the artifacts. Pete winced, but carefully took the knife by the handle and yanked it out of his leg. The light show from neutralizing was impressive. “Pete, another bag?”

“I don't have one.”

“Pete!”

“What, it's not like we were going after multiples.”

Myka walked in, on the phone with Vanessa. She handed Pete hers and he lifted the medal off before bagging it as well. Another impressive spark show, but Mike didn't heal. “Okay, he's not waking up or healing,” she relayed.

Steve checked his pulse, hindered by the medal before. It was weak, but there. “Come on, little brother. I haven't properly teased you about the Hardy thing,” he muttered.

“Okay, she's going to set up a hospital room for us at Mercy. Private, so no one can go in or out. She's ready for a full antibiotic regiment to get rid of the infections.”

He sighed, wondering about carrying him along with Pete. “He's allergic to a class of antibiotics,” Steve mentioned.

“A whole class?”

“Yeah. It's the reason why he couldn't enter the army,” he mentioned, “And I came out during Don't Ask, Don't Tell. So, our father wasn't the happiest with us.”

“Okay, what class?”

He tried for a couple of minutes to remember it. At one point, he memorized it because his mother was trying to get custody and failed. “Cel, something.”

 _“Got it. Cephalosporins, there are five generations and Mike's a 'better safe than sorry' in taking any of them after an allergy test showed he was allergic to several group two ones,”_ Claudia answered, still on the Farnsworth that Pete was holding. _“Artie updating Vanessa. Just get him to the hospital and tell them that Calder's coming. She's settled it with the hospital somehow. Hey, Steve!”_

“Yeah?”

_“Tell your brother he's got one person on his side.”_

“Yeah, I'll do that.”

The ride to the hospital was filled with pain and one human being that wouldn't wake up. Pete had to go in first to get a stretcher while Myka and Steve worked to hoist Mike out of the back and onto the thing before wheeling him in. Their patient hadn't woken up, hadn't moved, hadn't even moaned in pain when they were moving them. That scared Steve, who had forgotten being stripped until someone stated that he couldn't escort his brother. Myka made sure to stay with him while Pete drove him back to their hotel room for clothes.

By the time they got back, Vanessa and Myka were discussing the possible ramifications of two artifacts together on two different people and having two different functions. “Agent Jinks,” she said, motioning them into the room. Mike was set up in bed, an IV dripping nutrients down. “I've already started a round of antibiotics. I need to know if you're feeling anything from the two artifacts that were used. Side effects, secondary reactions to the artifact. Anything that could be happening to Michael.”

Steve hadn't felt anything during the ride, or after the infection had been taken. Normal as he usually was. He even took a few seconds to mentally catalog his body and his injuries. Even the hit to the head to render him unconscious was gone. “Nothing. I think the medal took everything off of me and gave it to Mike.”

She nodded and noted that down. “It's managed to get into blood and travel, but his organs have a fair shot of making it out with minimal damage. He'll have to be watched when he's older,” she informed, “Right now, his body's doing all it can to fight back and it's winning. He's going to be out of the field for a while.”

That was a relief. He wasn't dying, wasn't down. Mike will be back and that's something Steve needed to hear from someone.

-

Three days later, Steve was still waiting for his brother to wake up. The news stations kept playing the video over and over. The TV was on mute in case something new came up. Pete and Myka went back to tag and place the items. The knife was a favorite of a torturer, and the medal was fashioned from metal that had belonged to a set of conjoined twins. It was either ironic or that the two were the ones to work it meant that it was the reason why there weren't as many side effects.

The guy that came up on the screen reminded him of the joke Mike passed along a few days ago. He unmuted it and turned it up to here. _“Obviously, the FBI had suspicions that the death of Lily Gray was not the situation that had been told by the three agents, but nothing came of it. Numerous agents and those higher up declared it 'for the best'. Now, with this confession out-”_

“A forced confession, but that doesn't matter,” he muttered, looking to Mike.

_“The FBI is right now trying to find Michael Weston, who is, at this moment in time, not an agent of the FBI. He is considered fired from his role as agent of the BAU-”_

“That fucking jackass,” a voice hissed.

“Mike?” Steve said, turning to see his brother glaring at the TV.

“Bet he's been waiting for this since I hacked into his email.”

“I don't think-”

“Shut up,” he said. “Just shut up, Steve. I just lost my career, there's probably a few guys that want me arrested. Gray got what he fucking wanted.” He stared in confusion at the fact he was in a hospital, with a drip of nutrients and antibiotics. “Where the fuck am I?”

“Mercy,” Steve answered. “You weren't the only one being searched for.”

“Great. Just great,” he mumbled, falling back asleep. “If Ryan and Max find out where I am, keep them away. I just mess up everything.”


End file.
